Never The Hero
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: Perhaps if he had tried, he could have been the one to save the day, to kill the bad guy and get the girl. He could have been the hero. But Ron was never one to be a hero.


Never the Hero  
  
Disclaimer: The song's not mine, Ron's not mine, nothing is mine! Just keep reminding me how pathetic I am, why don't you?  
  
Author's Note: I've had this song running through my head for weeks now, and I've been trying to think of a proper fic to go along with it. Hope this works, though Nita, you'll probably kill me for this.  
  
***  
  
~I am so high, I can hear heaven  
I am so high, I can hear heaven~  
  
Limping, Ron slowly climbed the steps leading up to one of the balconies of the castle. The view from there had always been... amazing, especially at sunset. Brilliant blues and purples washed over fading yellows, oranges, and pinks in a swirl of color, like a painter's brush against a dark canvas.  
  
~Whoa, but heaven...no, heaven don't hear me~  
  
From up here he could always hear the birdsongs, drifting up over the trees and languishing on the breeze, free and pure. It had always comforted him before, especially after a particularly nasty exchange with Hermione.  
  
Somehow, it was as if he were one with nature, like he fit in for once. For the brief time he spent on the balcony, he belonged. He wasn't just another red-haired Weasley with a hand-me-down wand and horridly ugly sweaters. He was someone, not just Harry's tagalong friend.  
  
But not today.  
  
Today, the view had all changed, and the only sounds he could hear were the moans of the dying and the sobs of those left behind. Voldemort had struck three long days ago, casting a wave of devastation over the entirety of the school.  
  
And, of course, everyone looked to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Hero.  
  
~And they say  
That a hero could save us  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles  
Watch as we all fly away~  
  
He wasn't bitter, he really wasn't. He didn't wish that he could be in Harry's shoes or that they could somehow switch places. There was no way he would want that kind of pressure. Everyone trusted in Harry to save them all, to kill Voldemort.  
  
Ron knew it wasn't that easy. You couldn't just... kill someone like that. No, he didn't want to be Harry.  
  
So why was he up here?  
  
He leaned against a stone pillar that held up the roof, gazing absently over the edge. Above him, large, dark birds soared, cawing and crowing with the sounds of battle that raged below. He should be down there, down there helping his friends. But what in hell was he expected to do?  
  
Harry and Hermione were the ones who really had it together. Over the past three days the two had been working side by side with Dumbledore to organize the students. They had stepped up to become hero and heroine... how nice. Ron had been left on his own. He had not been named as being in charge of a section of students, as some of the more advanced students had been.  
  
He had been overlooked, despite his flaming red hair and freckles. He, who had never been lost in the crowd, was suddenly just that... lost. And while he struggled to find his place, his two best friends shone.  
  
~Someone told me  
Love would all save us  
But, how can that be  
Look what love gave us~  
  
It was funny how things turned out. Seven years ago, he never dreamed that his life would end up like this. He was supposed to be happy here, surrounded by friends. He was even, he admitted with a blush, supposed to fall in love.  
  
His mum had always told him that there was nothing greater than love. And he'd thought he'd found the one, the one girl that he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. And, cliché as it sounded, he'd found her in his best friend.  
  
But love had been more complicated than he had first thought. The war had certainly not helped things. It was mere months from graduation, and now hundreds of students would not even live to see that day. Their lives were snuffed out, their spirits flying away on the wings of angels, ushered into heaven with trumpet fanfare.  
  
They had, after all, died heroes, loved and missed by their fellow students.  
  
As of yet, no one had missed Ron.  
  
~A world full of killing  
And blood spilling  
That world never came~  
  
From his perch high above the ground, he could see the battle rage on. Curses flew tirelessly back and forth, striking mercilessly. He wondered if it would ever end, if their lives would ever go back to normal.  
  
To speak frankly, which he often did, he doubted that it could go back to normal. He himself would never be the same again. Who would, after seeing countless deaths? Of course, his leg would heal, that was a minor thing... but he was still... changed. And he wasn't sure it was for the better.  
  
Doubts swirled around like suffocating smog in his brain. How could they possibly win against Voldemort and his ranks of Death Eaters? The students, whether they realized it or not, were being slowly overtaken.   
  
It was plain to see from up here that they didn't stand a chance. His heart sunk.  
  
~And they say  
That a hero could save us  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles~  
Watch as we all fly away~  
  
Who would be dead now? Neville? Draco? Who else had flown away, leaving him alone? He envied them, he truly did. Why couldn't he fly away with the rest of them? Why couldn't the curse have struck his heart, not his leg? Then he could have died a hero, like the rest.  
  
But he had never been a hero. He kept forgetting that.  
  
~Now that the world isn't ending  
It's love that I'm sending to you  
It isn't the love of a hero  
And that's why I fear it won't do~  
  
His eyes strained to catch sight of one of his friends. But he was too far away to see a glint of sunlight off of Harry's glasses or to lay eyes on Hermione's tangled curls.  
  
What he wouldn't give to see her again, to tell her that he loved her, that he always had...  
  
Not that she'd want him. Why would she, after all the harsh comments Ron had made? He'd called her stuck-up, snobbish, even a bitch. But he hadn't meant any of it. He never had meant it.  
  
'So why do it?' came Hermione's voice, echoing emptily through his head. 'It doesn't make sense.'  
  
"Not everything has to make sense, 'Mione," he answered aloud. "You can't figure out everything just by ready a bloody book."  
  
Why had he done it? Because he loved her, of course. Even before he realized it, that was the answer. Love made a person stupid... some more stupid than others.  
  
But perhaps the most stupid thing he had ever done had been in not telling her. They were best friends... they were supposed to be able to tell each other everything.  
  
And he was going to tell her... at least, until she became the heroine.  
  
He didn't deserve someone like her. He was never the hero, like Harry was. She deserved the hero, not the dorky red-haired coward. Ron was merely the sidekick, like Robin to Batman. And Robin never got the girl- Batman did. Because he was the hero, and the hero always gets the girl.  
  
~And they say  
That a hero could save us  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles  
Watch as we all fly away~  
  
There was no point in pretending anymore, in covering up with a casual joke or snide remark. It was too late now, besides.  
  
Perhaps if he had tried, he could have been the one to save the day, to kill the bad guy and get the girl. He could have been the hero.  
  
"Bloody hell." He was never the hero. That role had been filled long before their days at Hogwarts. The night Harry received his scar he had become the hero.  
  
He stepped closer to the edge, gazing up at the birds as they soared closer and closer. They were almost close enough to touch- he could see their hazel eyes staring at him, calling to him, asking him to come fly.  
  
Well. The rest of them were flying away. Why couldn't he?  
  
He teetered on the edge, his arm reaching out for a handful of feathers to grasp. Not quite.  
  
If he never came down, he wouldn't be missed. Besides, it wasn't as if there weren't plenty of other Weasley kids to take his place. He was only one. And one would surely not be missed. Only the hero was ever missed by anyone.  
  
But just for once, he wanted to know what it was like to fly.  
  
One more step proved one too much. His hands clutched at mere air. Flying was obviously meant only for heroes.  
  
And he was never the hero.  
  
~And they're watching us  
They're watching us  
As we all fly away~  
  
END 


End file.
